I just woke up from a recurring dream that I have 5 or 6 times a year. this has been going on for about 3 years I guess. I can never remember all the details, one of the many pains involved in dreaming and DMT trips. But this is most of what I can remember.
I start off in a city that seems familiar but I’ve never found a land mark in it. It always feels like Philadelphia though. I never remember initially meeting the people that I eventually meet up with every time. I have no idea why I am there but it always feels like im there for graffiti purposes. I eventually meet 4 men and a woman. They are all in their mid twenties. They dress like emo punk kids and have a strange comrodary that always reminds me of the lost boys for some reason. it might be that one of them has a dangly earring.
We eventually steal a car and end up driving this rusted falling apart car on the highway with all the other rusted post apocalyptic looking cars. They are a mix of the Mad Max Intercepter and the Back To The Future Delorean in the way they are both rattling apart and welded together with large and interesting extra bits of machinery. They ask me many questions about how familiar I am with the city and I play along as best as I can.
We eventually see a tractor trailer truck that is very long but not articulated as usual. The best way I can describe it is something like the famous ramp truck in Grand Theft Auto games; except this one is all jagged brown colored metal, chains, sparks, and though I can never focus on them it seems to be sprouting teeth in the corners and certain other places that always reminds me of the way thorns grow off of a thorn bush
I start to admire it for its customization and the crew seems to notice this. They start driving recklessly towards it cutting acrossed many lanes very quickly causing many cars to fly off the road, honking, and on fire. As we approach the back of the truck they ask me if I know whats going on. I obviously don’t. We drive up the back of the truck but at the wrong angle and end up on the frame rails of the car grinding noisily to a halt on the back of the truck and on fire. The next part is never remembered unfortunately.
We end up with control of the truck but I never see anyone get to the cab; but then again the crew is always missing one or two people at this point. The driving mayhem calms down now that we have control of this truck I can only describe as damned. We drive until the sun is long under the horizon and a fog that changes color from green to red and gray constantly shrouds the entire city.
I next find myself in the middle section of a bridge. It is much like the area on the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge; except this is an all metal structure. The leader of the group gets on the roof of the stopped truck and tears away what looks like a hand held train indicator light from the side of the bridge. It is red on one side and green on the other with those strange eye lid shrouds you see over traffic lights or the headlights of exceptional classic cars. He screams in a way that sounds like blood is simultaneously coming out of his mouth like a bad smokers cough. This is the signal to go
I am very afraid. The truck starts speeding very quickly into the mist and my terror grows. I look forward and only see the crouching siloughette of the leader on the roof of the truck against the color changing fog holding high that light that only shines red in my direction. I can see the outline of the many buckles and straps and chains hanging from his long thin limbs. Suddenly everyone starts to laugh and I can see that the bridge is broken and the truck starts riding some broken beams like a toothy train. The rails quickly fall away from the bridge and we start going straight down. The gaps between the rails get larger and larger and more and more crooked. The train/truck starts to spiral upwards. Everyone stops laughing abruptly and stares back at me for only and instant and for some reason I know instinctively what to do. I instinctively brace myself with my arms and rotate my body until I’m completely inverted in relation to the bed of the truck. I find two mangled pieces of metal that I can slip my feet beneath to help hold my weight. The truck continues to climb upwards but is now completely upside down. I can see the tiny bits of metal serving as make shift rails become more and more narrow; closer together and more and more broken. Uneven. Everyone is laughing but I am more scared than I have ever been. The green from the leaders light is now right beside my eye in my peripherey and I am face to face with his ghastly white face. Something about it seems very different. Though we are upside down his hair is still falling towards his shoulders. Long black hair, held together in those thin ropes that form in the shower. It is wet or greasy; its hard to tell, but nothing else is wet it seems. His eyes are cold and searching me.
I scream and scream for a short while because it seems as if im alone. I nearly fall many times but hold on for dear life. The truck starts making more awful failing sounds and grinding metal fills me ears. It eventually emerges in some type of barn or shack. It has a metal frame but is sided with large wooden planks and has scattered wood floors held up by the structural scaffolding. The boards of the floors are old wide and loose, covered with filth. There are strange symbols placed all around on the surfaces inside this place. They are spray painted stencils in old drab colors. I drop like a sack of potatoes on jagged metal making an awful sound somewhere between relief and terror. I right myself and look at these five strange figures staring back at me. They sort of look at me absently and longingly at the same time. One of the others tries to take me with an arm around the shoulder like a friend may take you for a walk but this scares me. I go with him.
This is another point that never quite sticks. We walk. He is talking but I do not comprehend and we are going somewhere to see something. A hidden educational video. It explains something the 6 of us really want to know about. I know what it is in my dream but never when I wake. The structure we are in slowly turns from a barn like structure to that of some old abandoned mall. I see structures sticking up that remind me of the inside of empty stores. The occasional dust covered end table or small fabricless chair is spread about sparingly. We search for something together but I don’t know what it is.
We emerge from the structure later and I am taken to someplace that I know should be familiar. In my dream it is somewhere I know from that characters life that I am currently living; perhaps a dream family member. We are in an open area but buildings are very near. It is near dawn; that blue sky about an hour before the sun rises. The others start to change. At this point the one that gets the most of my attention is one whose head grows large and spherical. it becomes pure white and smooth like porcelain. I can see rain water start to slide down it in little meandering rivers. This is when I realize that I’m soaked from the rain that I too am under. The large perfectly smooth white face now has the markings of some demented clown on it though none of the rest of his body has changed much except for becoming just marginally taller. (I am not afraid of clowns. Seriously i want to make that perfectly clear. Its so important to me that you understand that i am not afraid of clowns; that is truely a silly fucking phobia.)
The others have changed as well and begin to discuss the plan of action amongst themselves. I cannot feel any change but it becomes apparent that I have later. I start trotting through nearly waist high grass with deep water at its base. I am making my way uphill across this clearing to the spot that seems familiar. It is one of many brick buildings in the vicinity that has a neck high wood fence near it. I make it there and hurl myself over the wall; and, with doing so drag wet skin on wood in the process. I can feel the sensation of pain. When I land in a heap on the other side of the fence I trigger something and hundreds of signs start to spring up. They are on long poles that lead away from the fence and spring upwards towards me like catapult arms. The largest one buts against the building and looks like a green stencil rendering of R Lee Ermey (the Full Metal Jacket drill sergeant.) A loud siren goes off as well as shouting instructions that i do not understand in the least. Hundreds of these signs keep springing up. In fear I retreat over the fence with ease. Though it appears that I only did part of the work. On the other side of the fence the woman is there. She has no eyeballs now; just large dark pits. Her skin is gray but slightly pink in little lines that used to be veins. Her hair is now a stained blonde that looks like she spent a few months in a river. It clings to her head and a few strands stick to the black sockets of her former eyes. Her lips are decayed but pinched together very tightly. She says nothing but we walk back to the group in a hurry. I look over my shoulder and see the brick building with the long wood fence between it and the next. The huge R Lee Ermey sign in the corner as tall as the three story building with ever more signs with arrows pointing in all directions popping up in a sort of compass like fashion away from its face. The siren and shouting instructions fade slightly but are replaced with the shouts of a human, not a speaker, and gun shots.
We run in the rain for a short period until we come to a side walk at a corner. All the while passing debris of a city that has shut down. The group speaks of a large glass building that I feel like is an unused hospital but it is never in view at this point. The sewers are over flowing yet one of the group uses his mind to physically remove a large manhole cover. Everyone has a good laugh at this act. All except for me in my permanent state of terror. Someone rips a long length of rusty steel gutter from a building and throws it at me hard. I catch it. I somehow know this is to be used as a snorkel. They push me towards the hole and some one tells me “its easy to get to, just take pipe number 8 to the right.” I’m confused and scared and I go in at the will of the others.
I am tossed around in this underground river bouncing off all sorts of things that are cutting away at my flesh. The snorkel never comes into play. I slam my head on a very large pipe that I cannot see. All I taste is rancid water and feel my eyes sting. Next thing I know my head is above water and the group is traveling along a rapid strewn river underneath steal grates that form a sort of walk way over head. I am very confused. They are telling me things though not with their mouths. Its far too loud for that. I am understanding though. I feel anger growing slowly at first, then replacing my confusion. One of them recognizes this somehow even though they are all ahead of me on this ride of sorts. “He’s changing back” he yells to the others. The others start cheering and screaming: “Yeah now your going to know what its like to get really fucking high!” “Yeah your gonna get fucked up now.” Its all very encouraging and not mocking or meant to intimidate. I can feel an incredible rush in my body. It truely is the best high ever.
I see ahead that part of the glass building is crumbling sending hundreds of large pains of broken and jagged glass into the grates that house this run off river. They all slide in at the perfect angle creating a labyrinth of corridors that no doubt are going to kill me. Suddenly it seems to me as though they have planned this and will relish my pain for some reason. I grab the one in front of me under the shoulders from behind and hurl him into the air. sending the steal grating flying. He soars through the air for about 40 yards before crashing through a large concrete cube. The others see this and lunge out of the river before entering the under water shattered glass maze. I give pursuit.
We group around the one that I flung through the air. Apparently there are no hard feelings about me wanting desperately to kill all of them. For a brief period of time the dream flashes to me in the glass building. The supposed hospital. Im in an area that seems familiar and I all of a sudden know where what it is that we are trying to find. Then it flashes back and I’m running across a parking lot and I have a pump action shotgun in my hands. I slip into one of those gas station huts that’s just big enough for two people, some cigarettes, and some beef jerky. I try to assure the two people in there that I’m not there to hurt them or rob them and they should just go about their business; but they are terrified like me. A cop walks in. I don’t know where he has come from and I beg for him not to do anything but he reaches for his hip and I have to pull my own trigger first.
I feel bad but have to keep alert. I peer over my left shoulder as I lean against the short wall crouched down. Out the window I can see several of the crew on the other side of the gas station looking around for me. I look back to my right hoping to see a clear path to safety but I find the woman standing above me instead. She is naked now though I cannot see any details of her anatomy. Her hair goes down somewhere near her waist and is filled with debris. Her arms, if they were ever there before are now long machete like blades. One stops near her elbow so she can still bend it, the other goes almost all the way to her shoulder creating one long nasty blade. The blades top three or four inches are barely coated with that gray flesh leaving the rest of the length of blade exposed in all its grime rust and knicks from previous battles. I fumble to put another shell in the gun and fire just in time to take off the blade that ends at her elbow.
She screams an awful scream and this time blood does come out of her mouth. The scream brings in one of the others and he starts to wrestle me for the gun. I momentarily break free and see the long blade of the woman’s other arm coming down at me. I grab the blade with my hand and feel it go through flesh smoothly. The pain is immense as I stand forcing her arm/blade above her head and throw her to the ground.
I am running again; bleeding from everything and nearly naked. I know something is chasing me; I don’t know if its them or something else I have brought upon myself. I am scared; and it is still raining and turning into night again. This is as far as I can remember right now; but I might re-enter the dream again when i sleep more tonight. You never know.
Saving...
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Matthew Zakutny. Matthew Zakutny said: James Deans Dreams: I just woke up from a recurring dream that I have 5 or 6 times a year… http://goo.gl/fb/UY5Qc [...]
The details in this piece are very vivid – your description of dragging wet skin on wood made me cringe – very unsettling and interesting. Good read!
To everyone (!): sorry about the poor sentence structure and punctuation. This was as i said written just after i woke up from what i can only describe as a drunken slumber. So enjoy it as well as you can in this state. And anyway, we all know im a way better writer…right? right?…. i dont hear anyone agreeing with me…..
I actually haven’t read this yet, but I am looking forward to reading it tonight! You are one of the writers I always look forward to reading ( no matter how crappy your sentence structure is ) lol